MTPR

Sarah Aronson

Sarah Aronson is the host and producer of "The Write Question" on Montana Public Radio.

Riverbend Publishing

In these stories, Patterson explores what it is to grow up female in the American West. As her narratives reveal the lives of travelers, homemakers, radio show announcers, mothers, teachers, dancers, shop clerks, and the subterranean world of girls, they take the reader from a ferry dock in Resurrection Bay, Alaska, to a two-room school in the Bitterroot Valley, from brash, backpacking college students to young new mothers on the edge, from the 1920s to the 1990s. In Ballet at the Moose Lodge, Patterson explores in delicate and searing prose the visible and invisible negotiations women make to navigate lives bound by the rugged western landscape.

"Why do you have to turn in your feminist card if you want both [a strong, chivalrous man and an independent life] and why can’t you have both?" -- Jennifer Ryan

Set against a rich backdrop of post-Victorian vice, suffrage, and celebration, "Love and Other Consolation Prizes" is an unforgettable story about the power of friendship, love and devotion in a world where everything and everyone is for sale.

"I always think every word or every new idea is either a firecracker or a pebble. If it’s a pebble, then it’s just sitting there doing its job of making it progress, but if it’s a firecracker, it could be an inspiration. It could send you in a different direction. One of the things about novels is that there’s an energy in the novel. If the energy is always pointing in one direction, toward the thing you planned, then it begins to dissipate. If you are feeling inspired by a whole bunch of things that are unexpected as you go along and then you can shape them and stick them in the novel, then the energy doesn’t dissipate, the energy keeps going because there’s a kind of a newness quality . . . and you yourself are jacked up about that, and so that energy that you feel gets into the narrative."  -- Jane Smiley 

The Bunch Grass Motel

Jan 23, 2018
Mary Beth Gloege

MUSING THE LOG CABIN

 

Some kitchen mornings

through time-warped window glass,

I saw mountain bluebirds

in their luminous coats

flutter and feed from post to post.

 

Living room afternoons

carried the whistles

and yeeps of robins,

harvesting fat earthworms

from fields of swaying grass.

 

Evenings above the cement stoop

held violet-green swallows,

darting swept-back wings

through the rising dark, rife

with star-shine and shadow.

 

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